O.K. I’m going to keep this week’s Dvar short and sweet. Abraham and Sarah’s time comes to an end while the next generation gets its start with the marriage of Isaac and Rebecca. At the beginning of this week’s portion Sarah departs this world for the world to come and a distraught Abraham purchases a plot of land to lay her body to rest. Abraham marries again and fathers additional sons. As Abraham prepares to depart this world he leaves his estate to Isaac, and gives some of his wealth to the sons of his concubines so they can start their own lives independent of Isaac. Tucked between the deaths of his parents Isaac marries Rebecca after Abraham charges his servant to return to his homeland in order to find a suitable wife for his son Isaac.

This may seem like a transitional portion but an underlining concept is present; and that concept is choices. Reflecting over the previous portions in this year’s cycle the choices made form a linking chain. The interesting thing is most of these decisions are made by our matriarchs giving them a feminine flavor over a masculine one. The idea of masculine and feminine means a lot more than the outline on the public restroom door you use they represent everything from language rules to the approach someone takes during real life situations. In the Torah we see where the feminine approach is more cerebral while the masculine is more physical. Think about it Eve chooses to partake of the fruit Adam follows suit. Sarah chooses to build a life and family with Abraham, while he acts out of fear to preserve his own well being; and ultimately it is Rebecca’s choice to leave her home only to, believe it or not, fall in love with Isaac and what does Isaac do he takes her into his tent and weds her.

I could go on and on categorizing events in Torah as masculine or feminine but its more beneficial for each of us to reflect and do that ourselves. Which pieces of our collective history do you view as masculine and which do you view as feminine? Comment below I want to know what you think.

For almost three months, I have had a sinus infection. Finally I went to my doctor, a nice older guy that my family has seen for years, to see if he could help. I had just changed insurance companies, and did not have my insurance card yet. The doctor’s staff said, “don’t worry, we’ll take you now and deal with the insurance paperwork later.”

I was so happy: a doctor who cares about his patients and doesn’t worry about seeing proof of insurance first.

Unfortunately, the medicine did not work, and I had to go back to the doctor. And this time, things were different. Really different.

The insurance company never sent my paperwork to the doctor, or so my paper file said. The receptionist at the doctor’s office said that they would not treat me if I did not show my insurance card or was willing to pay out of pocket. I refused and asked them to get the insurance company on the phone and sort it out while I wait. They wouldn’t. It was on me to solve this problem, even though I felt like I was going to die.

So I left. Not knowing what to do, I went to the Walgreens down the street and hoped into the Take Care Clinic, a sort of “nurse in a box” operation that does minor medical treatment.

This experience was amazing. Instead of dealing with a receptionist, I simply input my info on a touch screen. After five minutes of waiting, a nurse came out, greeted me by name, and brought me into the room. She asked what my insurance situation was, and I told her the story about my screwball doctor.

She replied, “Oh, this is no problem. I have my computer here. Let’s go on the insurance company website and get all your info.”

Within minutes, she was on the company’s website, printing my card! No haggling, no nagging. After the exam, she put in all my info into her computer, printed my prescription, and said, “OK, your prescription will be filled in about ten minutes.”

This was the best health care I had ever gotten. And the best part: it was so cheap that my insurance company paid for the entire visit. No co-pay.

A few nights later, I got a phone call from a random number. To my surprise, it was the nurse from Walgreens. “Hey Patrick, just wanted to call and see how you are feeling.” In the twenty years my family has been with my old doctor, I never once got a phone call follow up. I was impressed.

I began to think about this in a Jewish context. In a lot of ways, negative experiences with Judaism are like negative experience with doctors. Doctors, like rabbis, are perceived to have the easy life. Nice car, nice house, and a lot of authority to back it all up. Doctors and rabbis have support staff that seem to make everything possible. And if you have a bad experience with a doctor or rabbi, it’s probably your fault in some way, since we assume that either of these professions can do no harm.

And both Judaism and medical care cost a lot. While there’s no such thing as “Jewish insurance”, there is certainly a price to pay for all the kosher food, challah, Jewish daycare, tzedakah, synagogue membership, adult education classes, and other events. And just like the insurance companies and doctor’s staff, there is a bureaucracy in Judaism that keeps some people out, whether it’s the convert getting turned away, the LGBT couple who feels unwelcome, or the Jew of color who doesn’t care about labels like Ashkenazic/Sephardic.

A lot of people want a “top down” solution to the health care dilemma. So is the same with Judaism: looking for a “movement” to unite us all.

Perhaps the solution is neither of these. Perhaps it’s simply a change of mindset. And I can think of a few possible ways.

Less Emphasis on Rabbis. My “doctor” at the clinic was not a doctor at all. But I didn’t care. I needed someone who could tend to my immediate needs, not someone who knew brain surgery. It takes just as long to become a rabbi as a medical doctor. I don’t know about you, but when I need a shoulder to cry on during a funeral or someone to celebrate Shabbat with, I really don’t care what my rabbi thinks about European Jewish Settlements From 1910-1925 or Modern Hebrew Grammer.

Think of the Obvious. A clinic in a pharmacy is a no-brainer. There’s medicine, there’s sick people, get a doctor in there and you’re all set! Sometimes, the most obvious answers are the ones that don’t completely reinvent the wheel: they just put two-and-two together. The best I have seen of this, Jewishly, was an independent minyan that had a lay leader, who happened to live in a local retirement community. Every Shabbat, he picked up other Jewish folks from his community and drove them to “shul”. The retirement home had a great lobby, and he would use it to tutor B’nai Mitzvah kids.

Think Like A Business. I’m the CEO of PunkTorah, so I’m a non-profit guy. But I can see where the profit motive could do great things for the Jewish tradition. Example: Sarah’s Matzah. This Matzah company modeled themselves after Tom’s Shoes, selling “designer” matzah. For every box they sell, they give a box away to a community food bank. It’s capitalism, it’s socialism, it’s Judaism. And it works.

A Little Less Talk, A Little More Action. The talking heads online, on TV and in places of power love to wax poetic about how to “fix” healthcare in this country. And all streams of Judaism are neurotically obsessed with making Judaism relevant for the “new” generation. Perhaps this is a good bottom line: a little less talk, a little more action. PunkTorah started with a YouTube page and is now a non-profit organization with two full time staff members.

I have a confession to make I dreaded having to reflect and glean something meaningful for this Dvar that did not twist, bend, weave, or bob into the “I’m not religious, I’m spiritual” or “ I’m a man of faith” worlds of religious approach. Is there a catch phrase for a “thinking man‘s” path to righteousness? Vayeira quickly moves from one event and set of circumstances to the next. As I read this portion I tried all the tricks of the trade like picking a secondary character and running with it, or take the fan favorite approach and explore the sexual politics that are prevalent in Genesis. None of those were gelling it just seemed this week’s portion was yet another collection of stories chronicling the lives of some of our earliest Patriarchs and Matriarchs. Then it hit me Abraham’s story is about unity and disunity.

In Vayeira the split between Abraham’s first son Ishmael and his younger son Isaac takes place. Two brothers, two nations, two faiths, two names that start with the letter I, and it is precisely that I (or you, me. Etc.) against I . We as created beings infused with the knowledge of good and evil are constantly at odds with ourselves and others to the Nth degree. Call it religion, opinion, politics, or whatever we like labels and we like taking sides. For example, this faith of ours has numerous denominations and right now Chasidic and unaffiliated liberal Judaism are popular while everything in between seems to be struggling a little. It’s so very hard not to be dismissive of the other. Being accepting of the other side of the coin is scary it’s like saying I might be wrong, and who would ever want to be that?

Sarah’s disappointment in herself leads to unneeded pressures within her home. Ishmael is likened to a stubborn animal only because his father’s preferred wife is jealous of him while his mother his jealous of Sarah. He is a boy placed into a domestic war zone by others, of course he is going to be difficult at times. Think about this when Sarah makes Hagar and Ishmael leave their home Abraham is saddened while Hashem provides for them in the wilderness, He even blesses Ishmael by allowing him to father a nation. On the other side of the line we read that Isaac is the son whom Abraham loves. Talk about a tangled web woven.

Here is why this is so important today. Many of us try and foster this ideal of the individual who is diverse and complex yet often at times we forget how to just live our lives with others. Dialogue and debate are crucial for a healthy community, but there is a time for that and a time to sit down, break bread, and laugh with those around you. It is important to live life and that can only truly be done when you and those around you are healthy in mind, body, and spirit. If all you dwell on is which side of the aisle some of your views may rest you will never foster a healthy life. Know what you believe and why just be able to foster that sense of a little bit of Eden while living your life day to day.

Just as both brothers survived and prospered so can we as individuals and as a community. I want to know what you think! Comment below or send me a note. [email protected] Twitter @circlepitbimah.

In legal terms, divorce is fairly straight-forward – a strict delineation of names, assets, and debts. But in practice and process, it is far less tidy. Several years ago, the end of my own marriage proved a severe and bottomless shattering. Suddenly, I discovered myself spun glass as I split into shards again and again. The brutality of it all seared welts into my soul. It was abject catastrophe, ceaseless chaos, and loss so staggering I have yet to recover. The divorce which I initiated was the single most excruciating experience of my life.

Sisterhood saved me. When I felt as if I were adrift in a vacuum, it was coffee-fueled conversations and commiserations around a bonfire that served to bring me back. My female friends rallied, offering every kind of support. They listened, they proffered practical advice, and they practiced patience and listened more. Friends gave furniture, dishes and utensils and helped me move from the home I owned into a studio apartment. But it wasn’t only the support of my closest girlfriends that guided me through such difficult terrain. As I made my way solo in the world, a sort of secret sisterhood emerged. Women with whom I work appeared in my office to let me know that they’d been through the same, and that I would survive. My hairstylist shared her own story and gifted me hope and humor when they were both greatly needed. When I called to remove my name from a utility account and explained the reason, the Customer Service Representative’s demeanor softened. She let me know that she too had been through divorce and that I would be ok. So many acquaintances and even random strangers offered reassurance that I began to think of us all as one collective sisterhood, united by challenge and committing to thrive. It was an empowering and positive sensation during a time when both were in short supply.

Like all women, however, I am familiar with the other side of female relationships. Our culture fosters competition between women, and we’ve all been caught in the destructive trap of negative attitudes and spiteful behaviors against our sisters – both biological and communal. Jealousy, body shaming, and judgmental gossip serve to keep us alienated from one another and only support those cultural paradigms that are damaging to everyone. In my own life, I’ve behaved in ways counter to my deep seated commitment to empowering all women. Even now, I sometimes catch myself entertaining thoughts not aligned with my affirmation of strong sisterhood values.

So when I read the story of Sarah and Hagar, I can’t quite subscribe to the version our sages promote. Centuries ago, the Rabbis wrote copiously of Sarah’s extraordinary beauty, humility and graciousness. She is viewed as a prophet and mother to the world. Of Hagar, they were less complimentary. Generally, they cast Hagar as somewhat of an outsider, ungrateful for Sarah and Abraham’s generosity. They posit the two women as adversaries, depicting cruelties on both sides. Yet, in their work Sarah always manages to emerge unblemished by such acts.

The facts presented by our Torah are irrefutable. After ten years of marriage, Sarah offers to Abraham her handmaid (some translations describe Hagar as a slave) for purposes of procreation. “Sarai, Abram’s wife, had borne him no children. She had an Egyptian maidservant whose name was Hagar. And Sarai said to Abram, ‘Look, the Lord has kept me from bearing. Consort with my maid; perhaps I shall have a son through her.’ And Abram heeded Sarai’s request” (Genesis 16:1-2).

No mention is made of how the transaction transpired between Sarah and Hagar, nor are Hagar’s feelings about the arrangement known. It can be a difficult passage to read. A world where people are property and infertility is grounds for procreation with another woman is foreign and disturbing to me. Nonetheless, the events as described reflect what was reality for many in the ancient Near East and must be understood in their historical context.

Hagar conceives almost immediately and tensions arise between her and Sarah. “He [Abram] cohabitated with Hagar and she conceived; and when she saw that she had conceived, her mistress was lowered in her esteem. And Sarai said to Abram, ‘The wrong done me is your fault! I myself put my maid in your bosom; now that she sees she is pregnant, I am lowered in her esteem. The Lord decide between you and me!’ Abram said to Sarai, ‘Your maid is in your hands. Deal with her as you think right.’ Then Sarai treated her harshly, and she ran away from her” (Genesis 16:4-6).

In the Torah narrative, Sarah is a highranking Israelite and Hagar, an Egyptian slave. A distinct power differential exists between them. However, they are both navigating a world where roles are proscribed, women marginalized, and the possibility of social and economic ascension is slim. Hagar is depicted as serving Sarah for at least a decade before conceiving Ishmael with Abraham. She and Sarah would have traveled side by side, would surely have been alone together frequently, and Hagar was no doubt a keen and routine observer of the dynamics between Sarah and her husband. For such a relationship to flow as seamlessly as needed, significant trust must have existed between the two women. Some degree of emotional intimacy would have likely arisen. And while perhaps never friends, Sarah and Hagar would have known each other well.

We can speculate as to the origins of Sarah’s outburst towards Abraham and her cruel treatment of Hagar. Perhaps she felt the bile of jealousy rise within her. Perhaps her pride was wounded, and she feared the endangerment of her social standing. Likewise, it is possible that Hagar, for years consigned the role of servant, viewed the impending birth of Abraham’s child as her one opportunity for social advancement. It is also possible her pregnancy provided a platform to express feelings towards Sarah she had previously repressed. Very human emotions, indeed, and definitely ones with which this 21st century reader is familiar.

I cannot view Sarah as the otherworldly paragon of godly virtue our sages depicted. Nor can I regard Hagar and Sarah as strictly enemies. Rather, I seem them as two women surviving in very difficult conditions. I imagine Sarah and Hager came to rely greatly on one another. The divisions that arose between them were largely the result of cultural dynamics far beyond their own control. In a sense, the intimacy of their parallel lives made them sisters. And like with all sisters, both solidarity and conflict ensued.

When I read this week’s parshah, I am prompted to think of my own relationships with other women. Most importantly, I consider my attitudes, measuring them with the yardstick of empowerment. What thoughts do I harbor supportive of women in general? Where do I fall into a web of jealousy and spiteful behavior? The relationships between women are universally complex. Sisterhood is a tangible concept vital to the lives of so many women today. Parshah Lech Lecha reminds us it lives in our Torah, as well.

Akiva Yael is an enthusiastic participant in all that is holy, including Torah study, powerlifting, and the beauty of our world.

Two years ago, 5774, my father died alone, suffering severe alcohol withdrawal. My mother, whose mental health has been compromised for years, disappeared. After a police report covering 3 states was filed, she suddenly reappeared, raising more questions than answers. Following routine sinus surgery, a woman with whom I’d experienced a conflicted friendship died suddenly at age 26. Three Israeli teens were kidnapped and slaughtered. Women and children were kidnapped and tortured. Aid workers and journalists were tortured and beheaded. Crucifixions made an alarming comeback, and clergy members advocated violence and brutality. The news since his death proved little more than a ceaseless litany of horrors, testament to the unfathomable depravity of human beings. This year, things have not gotten any better.

So perhaps it is not surprising that I approached Yom Kippur with a smoldering sense of resentment. I recognized the immeasurable value of acknowledging the gap between who I am and the woman I want to be. I understood that reconciliation and forgiveness are central to creating a life of meaning and fulfillment. I appreciated the importance of true apology, both individually and as a community. Yet, I found myself increasingly resistant to the concept of a deity dictating who will die, who will live, who will prosper, and who will suffer in the coming year. The idea of my God mandating abuse, sadistic barbarity, disease, displacement, poverty, and hunger seemed downright repellent. I needed a God of infinite compassion and measureless love for us all. Haven’t we human beings endured enough?

While certainly not as sinister as the headlines, Parshah Noach does include several episodes of less than stellar human behavior. Noah, for all his ark-building and animal-whispering skills, is not described as a paragon of virtue, but rather, “…blameless in his age” (Genesis 6:9). Given that in his age, “…the earth was filled with lawlessness,” this is not particularly high praise (Genesis 6:11). After surviving the flood, Noah cultivates a vineyard, ostensibly brews his own wine, and proceeds to get drunk, get naked and pass out. When Noah’s son Ham discovers his father in such a state, he notifies his brothers. Shem and Japheth, in an action routinely described as respectful and discreet, cover their father by backing their way into the room so as to avoid seeing him naked. I have a difficult time reading their actions as anything other than textbook codependency, and as the daughter of an alcoholic I identify with the pain and frustration Ham must have endured following his father’s vitriolic (and perhaps slurred) curse:

“Cursed be Canaan;
The lowest of slaves
Shall be to his brothers,

And he said,

Blessed be the Lord,
The God of Shem;
Let Canaan be a slave to them.
May God enlarge Japheth,
And let him dwell in the tents of Shem;
And let Canaan be a slave to them.”

(Genesis 9:25-27)

Additionally, once the world was repopulated, the people as a whole grew arrogant and presumptuous. They planned to build a city and a tower, “…to make a name for ourselves; else we shall be scattered all over the world” (Genesis 11:4). Their hubris roused the ire of God, who intervened. “The Lord came down to look at the city and tower that man had built, and the Lord said, ‘If as one people with one language for all, this is how they have begun to act, then nothing that they may propose to do will be out of their reach. Let us, then, go down and confound their speech there, so that they shall not understand one another’s speech” (Genesis 11:5-7). Bam! A common language is no longer spoken, the city and its tower are abandoned, and the people disperse. So much for asset-based community devolment and collective wellbeing.

The morning of Yom Kippur, I met my personal trainer for a session of deadlifts and conditioning. As I performed rep after rep, it was difficult to swallow the feelings of shame and betrayal I felt, imagining the Shacharit service already underway. I knew if I did not make it for Yizkor, looking in the mirror would be a challenge. I debated with myself, offering strong arguments for shirking services and finding the divine on a long hike instead. But in the end, it was the ancient impetus of obligation that won out. Although my discomfort with a God of harsh judgment did not dissolve that day, the message I heard from the Rabbi lessened my anxiety. Love was included, as was unity and unabashed Jewish pride. Breaking the fast with my partner, I was grateful I’d gone.

When I read the news, I sometimes wonder, “Where is God?” Telling myself that God lives in the goodness of my fellow human beings is not always enough, especially when so much overwhelming evil stems from the same source. Parshah Noach reminds me that addiction, spite, and jealousy are as integral to the human experience as unconditional love, courage, and selflessness. Life is indeed a struggle we all share. More to the point, our Torah illustrates that we human beings have always been what is both wrong and right with our world. These are not God’s messes. They are ours, and we alone are responsible for cleaning them up.

I’ve seen a lot of butterflies lately. My always rational mind supposes some kind of butterfly season here in the desert – a natural cycle I’ve simply failed to notice in previous years. My more mystically-centered heart insists that the butterflies are messengers sent by HaShem, conveying comfort, hope and reassurance. I’ll take those where I can find them, and continue bushwhacking my way towards divinity.

Akiva Yael is an enthusiastic participant in all that is holy, including Torah study, powerlifting, and the beauty of our world.